


Scattered

by Lost_Stories



Series: Stories of Seville [1]
Category: Don Juan - Gray, Don Juan - Takarazuka Revue, Takarazuka Revue Musicals, ドン ・ ジュアン | Don Juan - Takarazuka Revue
Genre: Afterlife, Canonical Character Death, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Gen, Grief/Mourning, M/M, Post-Canon, Pre-Slash, Tragic Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-28
Updated: 2018-05-29
Packaged: 2019-05-14 22:32:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 4,496
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14778515
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lost_Stories/pseuds/Lost_Stories
Summary: After Don Juan's death, Don Carlos tries to keep busy. Anything so he doesn’t have to think. So he doesn’t have to keep seeing Juan’s empty, dead eyes in his mind. Doesn’t have to see the blood, tumbling down his shirt like rose petals...An exploration of the lives of those who stayed behind in Seville, and how they pick up the pieces of their lives after the events of the musical.





	1. Strike to the Heart

**Author's Note:**

> This collection of drabbles examines the lives of the characters who stay behind in Seville, but also returns to those who died. It is specifically based on the Takarazuka version of the musical. As not everyone in the story has a name, I have added some myself:
> 
> 1\. The Ghost - Don Pedro: while the ghost does not seem to have a name in the Takarazuka version, the character did have a name in the opera (Don Pedro), so I decided to use that for this story as well. 
> 
> 2\. The Beauty of Andalusia - Mirabel: one of the characters I am writing about is the 'Beauty of Andalusia'. Since she did not have a name I decided to name her myself, and came up with the name 'Mirabel'. In my story, she is Fernando's twin sister (the soldier that saves Raphael's life), as a nod to them having been played by the same actress (Kiraha Reo).
> 
> Many thanks to silver-colour and asachan for beta-reading this for me, and all the blame to silver-colour for giving me this idea in the first place. I hope you're happy ;)

**Strike to the Heart**

Don Pedro sighed, wandering to the portal that would grant him a view of the human world. He came here entirely too often. He hadn’t been back to earth since Don Juan’s death, but somehow he could not keep away from the mirror. He needed to see her.

It never should have been like this, he wasn’t supposed to get involved. And yet nothing had been as simple as it seemed. All he had wanted was revenge, avenge his daughter and avenge his death, but life (or death, for that matter) just had a way of getting complicated. It had seemed so easy. Pick a girl, the complete opposite of Juan, pure and good and smart, and make her fall in love with him, and him with her. A simple curse. At first, he hadn’t cared who his little scheme might hurt. He had been hurt, as had his little girl, and nobody had cared about that, had they? Juan had walked free, unburdened by his crimes. Unchecked.

And then he had found her. Maria. A sculptor. Her hands had been so gentle, precise, as she created a likeness of him out of stone. And he had felt something. Something other than anger and pain. But he had ignored it, she was perfect after all. She would be perfect to bring down that _demon_ of a man. And she had. But as he had cemented Juan’s hold on her heart and hers on his, he had felt it again. That spark of emotion. When he had helped her strike her chisel into Juan’s heart, it had hit him all the same.

Maria. Such a simple name, yet beautiful. Like her. And now here he was, watching as his grey ghostly image in the mirror morphed into a view of the world below, into her. Crying still, but never over him.

~~~


	2. Heart of Stone

  **Heart of Stone**

Maria sat quietly in her workshop, her hands idle in her lap. In front of her a large block of stone, ready to be worked. For her to discover what was inside and help it show itself to the world. And yet...she sat here, unmoving. She had for days.

Everything felt far away, numb. Like she wasn't even really here. She only knew she was crying because she felt the wetness of her tears on her cheeks. And even then she wasn't sure who or what she was crying for. Juan? Raphael? Herself?

The feelings she had had for Juan had pushed everything else away, a strong wave that had swept her off her feet and pulled her into the emotional whirlwind that had been their life together. She was a widow now, wasn't she? Or was she? Had they ever even been married, really? They must have been...? She wasn’t sure now, not after meeting Elvira. For all the confidence and faith she had had during their time together, she now had none. The pain that had pierced her heart when Raphael stabbed him and Don Juan dropped his sword had taken all the other feelings away, leaving an emptiness she could not fill and a guilt she could not assuage. What had she done? To him, to Raphael. She had not truly loved Raphael, she knew that now (and perhaps even then), but she had still made him a promise. A promise she should have kept.

She vaguely heard the voice of Don Luis, coming to check on her as he had every day since the duel, but she didn't look up. It felt like she was frozen in moments like these - knowing she should respond but unable to open her mouth or move her limbs. Somehow, she got up each morning, but it was more routine than anything else. Don Luis left again, sometime later, having left her some food that she knew she wouldn't touch. Not until later that night, when Don Carlos would come and force her to eat it - as he had done every day.

As she watched one of her tears falling on the stone before her, a ghostly voice sounded in her ear:

"Maria... let him go. I am so, so sorry for what I did to you..."

She gasped, eyes searching the room for anyone other than herself, but there was nothing. The voice spoke again.

"You're not to blame Maria... please... don't drown yourself in regret. It is not your fault. Let it go, and find happiness, as you always should have."

As the voice died out, something loosened itself in her chest, like the icy hand around her heart had withdrawn, and she could breathe again. Feel again. She felt herself smiling, despite her tears and grief, and for the first time since Juan had died in her arms, she felt like a human being.

When Don Carlos came that night, Maria's plate was empty, and he found her sleeping with tears on her cheeks but a smile on her face, curled against the half-finished but ever so recognisable statue of a tall man in military commanders uniform.

~~~


	3. Broken Wings

**Broken Wings**

Elvira carefully removed the bloody bandage from Raphael’s hip as he lay sleeping, hoping to finally see some improvement. This one had been festering badly. She breathed a sigh of relief when she saw the wound – her treatment seemed to have worked, his blood was clean. Carefully, she placed a new bandage over his injured hip and then bundled up the dirty bandages, busying herself by taking care of the brave young man who had defended her. Keeping her mind off the duel as best she could. She hadn’t left the house for the past week, not ready to face reality, not ready to face Don Carlos’ pained, accusatory eyes.

Instead, she had tried to make sure Raphael at least _did_ survive the fight. He had been in a bad state the first few days, keeping her constantly busy and anxious about his condition. However, now that he was sleeping peacefully through the night and his fever had broken, her thoughts kept wandering back to that fateful night. To Carlos’ horrified expression as Juan fell. His instinctive step forward to catch him, only to step back to watch that _stupid_ girl catch him instead. She knew how he must have felt, she had felt it too. She still didn’t understand how she had never noticed it before, hadn’t noticed just how similar he and she really were.

She should have listened, gone back to the convent when she had the chance. Now, now she had done something unforgivable, and they had all paid the price. Behind her, Raphael made a sound, and she was instantly at his side.

“You truly are an angel,” he whispered hoarsely, as she gave him some water to drink.

She snorted. If that was so, then surely she was an angel with broken wings, right on her way to hell.  

~~~


	4. Petals

**Petals**

Don Carlos tries to keep busy. Help the soldiers train in the morning, have lunch with Isabel, dinner with Don Luis, check on Maria every night, make sure Mirabel doesn’t drink herself to death… Anything so he doesn’t have to think. So he doesn’t have to keep seeing Juan’s empty, dead eyes in his mind. Doesn’t have to see the blood, tumbling down his shirt like rose petals.

He hasn’t been to see Elvira, he’s not sure he can look her in the eyes without blaming her, even though that isn’t fair. If anyone is to blame for Juan’s downfall, it’s Juan himself. And yet…

And yet he cannot help but miss him. Miss his laughter, his crazy smile, even his ridiculous penchant for getting into trouble and making Carlos get him out of it. They had decided, sometime in their teenage years, that Juan oughtn’t be trusted with a sword. Juan had agreed, under the joking condition Carlos had better be there to defend his honour. He had failed. Twice. The Commander and Raphael. Two duels, for such similar reasons. _Both_ of which he should be horrified about, and yet his horror is reserved for the second. He knows, _he knows_ , Juan wasn’t a good person - he has always known that – but much like the many women that fell to his charms, Carlos had (almost) never been able to say no to him.

He should have insisted Juan didn’t duel. The man had never been stable, especially not the last few months, and he should have known this would not end well. But he had been so concerned about Juan killing yet _another_ man, he had failed to even entertain this possibility. Failed to think that Juan could be vulnerable to anything at all, perhaps because it had been too much for him to bear. That mistake had cost him everything, and as he watched Juan die in Maria’s arms he had felt his heart shatter into a million pieces.

The distance between Don Luis’ house and Maria’s workshop isn’t large, so Carlos never takes a horse but simply wanders the streets from the one to the other, seeing Juan on every corner, hearing his laughter as he chases a girl or raises a bottle of blood-red wine to his lips.

There’s an old run down building somewhere halfway down his path that serves as a reminder of that single time Juan kissed him. They were barely twenty, and terribly drunk. Already taller than Juan even then, he had been trying to half drag, half carry him home when Juan pushed him against a wall and kissed his breath away. It had taken him a moment to recover his senses, but as tears sprang into his eyes he had pushed Juan away, and told him ‘no’. The only time he had denied his best friend anything, ever. Juan had pulled away, confused, insisting that he wasn’t stupid and he could _tell_ that Carlos wanted him. Carlos hadn’t corrected him, just looked at him for a moment, really looked at him, and let his eyes speak the words he didn’t dare say. Juan had looked away, even seemed ashamed, and backed off. They had never spoken of it again, but Carlos had found a red rose on his bed the next day. An apology. It had been enough.

He would give anything, anything at all, to come home and find a rose like that again. To see Juan smile, or drink or… anything. But Juan is gone, and whenever he sees a rose now all he can do is look away, and try not to think about it. So Don Carlos tries to keep busy, and takes care of the others. It’s all he knows how to do.

~~~


	5. Daughter and Son

**Daughter and Son**

Don Luis hadn’t thought he would smile again. Smiling had not come easy since the death of his beloved wife, but when he saw his only child give up on life right in front of his eyes he felt like the joy would leave his heart forever. Juan may not have been perfect, hardly even good, but he would never forget the spirited and cheerful boy that would bring his mother roses and wake him up in the middle of the night because he’d had a nightmare and wanted to hear a song.

He could not deny that perhaps Juan had deserved it, but that didn’t change the fact that he loved his son, and missed him. And that he could see the way it affected the people that had been closest to him. He had seen Maria collapse, sitting idly in her workshop for days on end, unmoving. He had felt it himself, the shock and confusion followed by a gaping hole in his heart where his child should be.

It was Carlos that saved them both. Carlos that brought him home that night, went back for his son and carried first him and then Maria out of the square. Carlos that arranged the funeral. Carlos that told him about the state he had found Maria in a few days later. And slowly, slowly he realised that he couldn’t let them down. Carlos might be doing his damnedest to take care of everything, he was fraying around the edges. Luis had seen the forlorn look in his eyes when he looked at the chair in which Juan used to sit, and he remembered them both as children. Juan, small but fiery, defending shy and lanky Carlos from their classmates. As teenagers, teasing each other over their voices dropping. Carlos had been his son’s companion most of their lives, loved him just as much as Luis had, and he was not going to stand idly by and watch the boy drown himself in caring for others while letting his sadness get the best of him.

So he resolved to help Carlos, and visited Maria, took care of her when she couldn’t herself, and he gratefully ate dinner with the young man each night. Elvira had all but disappeared, Carlos told him she was caring for that boy – Raphael. Luis didn’t blame him. Juan had stepped right into that uncoordinated attack. It had been his own choice. That did not make it any easier.

It went on like that, until the day Carlos came back to him after he had left for Maria’s with hope in his voice for the first time, telling him she had eaten. And moved. That she was working on something. The first step.

And now here they were, having dinner, with the three of them. Luis took a breath, uncertain still. He knew what he wanted to tell them, ask them, but that did not make it an easy question. Part of him was afraid he was trying to replace his son, but he knew no-one would ever replace the hurricane that had been Don Juan. He put down his fork.

“Children?”

Maria and Carlos looked up from their quiet conversation, both slightly confused.

“I would like you both to stay here, with me, for a while. Would that be something you both might appreciate?”

The expressions on their surprised faces told him enough, and as Maria started crying and hugged him, Don Luis felt himself smile.

~~~


	6. Empty Chairs

**Empty Chairs**

Raphael doesn’t remember what happened in the last moments of the duel for the longest time. He remembers pain, confusion and determination, and then his vision going black. And yet somehow, he wakes up and Don Juan does not. It feels all wrong. It shouldn’t, but it does – like it wasn’t him at all, but someone else pulling all of their strings.

Elvira tells him about it all later, how Don Juan dropped his sword and just… stepped right into his blade, and Raphael does not understand any of it. He’s grateful to be alive, grateful to be cared for, but he does not really know what happened that day. He knows one thing though – the challenge was a mistake. All of it was a mistake. He may have loved Maria, she clearly hadn’t loved him. He should have let her go, but he had been in too much pain to think straight when Elvira (and someone else, there had been someone else too, right?) came to him.

When he can finally walk again, he goes to the barracks, to see what is left of his friends. His heart drops at the number of empty seats, and when his eye falls on Mirabel sitting on one of the soldier’s laps, with tearstained cheeks and a bottle to her lips, he flees back to Elvira’s warm and welcoming home and hides. His guardian angel (though she sure isn’t fond of the nickname).

That night he cries, for the first time. About his friends, Maria, his life… about everything. And resolves to be better. He can’t be sad that Juan is dead, but he can see how it affects Elvira. How she shies away from any kind words and startles every time he knocks on her window to tell her he’s there. She hasn’t gone out since it happened. She blames herself. That miserable man never deserved her. Doesn’t deserve her guilt now, but he doesn’t know how to convince her of that.

The first time he runs into Don Carlos in the street he almost freezes, afraid of the reaction he might get, but all Don Carlos does is nod at him in passing. He doubts Maria will be so kind. Perhaps one day, when he is braver, he will have the courage to go find her and talk.

For now, he tries to help Mirabel. It’s the least he can do to honour Fernando’s memory. Strangely, after their initial awkward meeting, she and Elvira end up getting on like a house on fire, which almost makes him regret he ever brought Mirabel home with him (Home? When did Elvira’s house become home?), but not quite. It makes Elvira smile, and somehow, that’s a worth a whole damn lot.

~~~


	7. Soldier

**Soldier**

At first, Fernando does not even realise he died. But as he follows Raphael and the others home, he realises they can no longer see him. Touch him. They do not know he is there. He remembers then, stepping in front of his friend, his captain. Raphael.

Was it worth it? He has a wife at home, expecting their child, he has a sister. But Raph, obnoxious though he might be, has always been like his little brother. He could not let him get hurt. Did him a lot of good, that did. Kid comes home and instantly gets into another fight.

And now he finds himself sitting in the corner of a strange woman’s house, watching Raphael battling a fever, desperately clinging to life. And he had better beat it. Fernando didn’t die for him just so he could get himself killed getting in a duel with _Don Juan_ of all people. Is the kid an idiot? (What’s he saying, of course the kid is an idiot, he’s known this for years).

He paces the room and waits, muttering and cursing at his friend. Raphael survives, thankfully. The woman who took him in seems an adequate nurse. If only he knew how to leave, move on… he does not want to spy on their lives, dreads seeing what his death did to his wife, to his _twin_. But he is stuck. Unable to leave, tethered to Raphael it seems.

So he watches, grateful as Raphael steps up and goes get his sister, takes care of her. Raphael finds his wife, tells her how much Fernando loved her. She asks Raphael to be their baby’s godfather, and Fernando smiles. They’ll survive, even without him. Now if only he could leave…

Then, one day, while he is ridiculing Raphael (who can’t hear it anyway) about being so blind as to how he feels about the woman he seems to be living with, he hears a soft, kind, gravelly voice calling his name behind him and turns. Recognition barely takes him an instant. He salutes.

“Commander!”

The ghostly figure smiles, an almost terrifying vision with the blood-red gash on his stony grey face.

“It’s time to go Soldier, are you ready?”

Fernando smiles. About damn time.

~~~


	8. Beautiful Creature

**Beautiful Creature**

Mirabel knows, before she hears, that her brother is dead. There’s something about twins that transcends logic, doesn’t adhere to what should and should not be possible. She wakes up with tears on her cheeks one morning and knows, just _knows,_ that he is gone.

When the news comes that the soldiers are returning, she doesn’t go to greet them. Fernando will not be with them, and she is not ready to face her sister-in-law’s tears. She’s not even ready to face her own. For a while, she loses herself in distractions. The poor soldier-boys left behind all need comfort, and look at her as though she is the most beautiful creature that walks the earth. _The Beauty of Andalusia_ , as if. As her sister-in-law is so fond of saying, that pretty face just hides her rotten nature.

Why else would she miss her own brother’s funeral? (Because she couldn’t, _couldn’t_ see him, lying there. Couldn’t bear it. Can’t think about it, even now).

Weeks pass in a blur. She hears vaguely that Don Juan is dead, and thinks it serves him right, for treating all of them the way he has. Before, when she still felt things, she regretted her interest in him. He was not a good man – and she had helped him make that poor creature (his wife?) utterly miserable. Don Carlos shows up, on occasion. Takes her away from the barracks and takes away her wine. She finds new the moment he leaves.

And then there is Raphael. She thinks she’s seen him around the barracks a few times, leaning on a cane, but one day she wakes up in a bed that isn’t her own, and he is sitting by her side. He starts talking, and all she can do is cry, and try to press her hands against her ears. She doesn’t want to hear. Doesn’t want to hear Fernando died saving Raphael, doesn’t want to wish deep in her heart it had been the other way around. But he stays. He stays and she joins him. Elvira. They watch her, day in day out. There is no alcohol in the house.

She feels desperately awkward around Elvira the first week, but never once does Elvira blame her for anything. Doesn’t judge. She is almost painfully kind, saying an evening prayer for her every day, and slowly coaxing her out of the room they put her in. Back to the land of the living. She realises then that Elvira has not left the house since Don Juan’s death, and resolves to help her. It’s only fair, she recons.

As she and Elvira walk to church a few weeks later, arm in arm, she starts to plot how to get Elvira and Raphael to admit how they (so clearly) feel about each other. It feels like the kind of thing Fernando would do, and it is as though she can feel his approval even from beyond the grave. One day, she thinks, she will see him again. Until then, she will just have to make sure to live as well as she can, for the both of them. And as she feels Elvira’s hand in hers and the sun on her face, she realises that she will be alright.

~~~


	9. Understanding

**Understanding**

Isabel isn’t sure what she expected, but this definitely was not it. But who could have expected Don Juan to lose to that… boy. Seville is strangely quiet without him, the number of brawls has dropped dramatically, and it’s almost ridiculous to see just how much of the atmosphere had been controlled by Don Tenorio’s wayward son.

Part of her misses him, and part of her isn’t sorry he is gone. While she loved him, she also had a pretty firm grasp on his faults. It’s Don Carlos she feels sad for, and even Elvira. As much as she might blame Elvira for the duel in the first place, she can’t _really_ fault her. She understands. And besides, it seems like Elvira is doing plenty of the blaming herself.

While she and Juanita still spend most of their time in the city taverns, life has become a lot less exciting. Not only is Don Juan gone, so is about half the male population of the town. Idiot men and their wars, she thinks, don’t they know what they do to those who love them? They don’t. She knows they don’t.

As time passes, a strange peace settles over Seville, and the deep wounds inflicted on them in the past months slowly start to heal. She watches as the girl, Maria, starts sculpting again. Even sneaks into her workshop once to see if the rumours are true, and she made a statue of Don Juan. (She has, and the likeness is uncanny). Watches Carlos trying to live life without Juan, lost, not knowing how he relates to the world now. She tries to help, as best she can.

It takes a while, but even Elvira re-joins the world, walking to church on Sunday arm in arm with Mirabel of all people. That, she will never understand, but she is glad they found support in each other.

Everyone seems to be moving on, everyone but Carlos. When she finds him drinking in a corner one night, ‘useless’ now they are all doing better, she brings him home with her. They might not love each other, they do understand each other. And the least she can do is hold him.

~~~


	10. Fleurs Du Mal

**Fleurs du Mal**

Don Juan froze when he noticed the other presence at the portal, fighting the urge to shrink back and hide. The ghost of Don Pedro stood stock-still in front of it, staring silently at whatever image he had conjured. Contrary to his memory of the vengeful spirit on earth, Don Pedro didn't look stony here at all. Perhaps that had been a side-effect of walking the earth, since up here he moved just as fluidly as Juan – he even seemed to float at times. He still wore the clothes he had died in, much like Juan himself, but the terrible bloody gash on his face was conspicuously missing.

He wondered what Don Pedro was looking at. As he had met his ghostly tormentor and earned his forgiveness upon his death he had expected the spirit of Don Pedro not to linger - to move on and find the peace he must have been craving. But here he was... at the same mirror Juan so often sought.

Don Pedro looked up, and Juan all but recoiled on instinct. But the ghost did nothing. Didn't even say a word. Just stepped aside to make space for him, as though in understanding. Juan inched closer, eventually stepping in front of the mirror. He watched as his own mirror image morphed into the person he wanted to see, and wondered who or what it was his neighbour was watching. His daughter perhaps? But no... hadn't he heard the girl had killed herself shortly after the duel? He flinched slightly at his own past, his callousness, and wished once again he hadn't been that person. He was startled out of his thoughts by the soft, gravelly tones of Don Pedro’s voice.

"So... who is it that still calls you here then?"

For a moment he contemplated not answering, strangely protective of the truth. The truth he had been to stupid and blind to see all his life. The silence stretched on between them as the question hung in the air.

"Don Carlos," he said, after some time, "I'm here for Carlos."

The Commander nodded.

"You really did learn then, didn't you?"

Juan grimaced. He had. Years and years too late, and only through the machinations of a vengeful spirit, he had finally learned.

~~~

**Author's Note:**

> While on principle this is finished, I have many more ideas for the characters, and chances are high I will write more in this universe. Thank you for reading!


End file.
